


The queen and her witcheress

by Felurian



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, just a tiniest bit of angst tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felurian/pseuds/Felurian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short stories focused on relationship between Cerys and Ciri on different stages. Mostly follows canon from The Witcher 3 with few minor exceptions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The queen and her witcheress

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little ficlet full of fluff between those two. Might be kinda OOC, for which I apologize :')

It was long past midnight when Ciri entered cold halls of Kaer Trolde. The fortress, usually full of life, laughter and quarrelling Skelligers was now calm and quiet, with only people she met on her way upwards being guards. They simply nodded at her, knowing very well she had a privilege to move through the castle as she pleased.

She stopped before climbing the stairs to her chamber, wincing inwardly. Her latest contract turned out to be much more complicated that it seemed at first, the long gash on her lower abdomen being a painful reminder. Thankfully, she managed to get the wound treated before travelling back to Kaer Trolde, yet it slowed her down significantly. The fact that she's been attacked by the goddamn sirens on the road didn't help either, as she was now battered and bruised, her armor completely ruined. In the end she made it, though, three days later but with a slayed katakan on her account.

Not without an effort, Ciri managed to ascend the stairs, short of breath. Two guards at their post in front of the doors straightened themselves at the sight and gave her quick nods. She smiled, somewhat apologetically, as if she were an unruly young lady who snuck out of her chamber and waited for them to open the door. As she moved past them, one of them whispered: "Her Majesty has been worried about you. We're glad you came back, my lady."

"So am I," she murmured, amused at the guard's politeness, since everyone here knew if she had any formal title, it would be the Witcheress.

Ciri quietly entered the dimly lit room, making sure to step softly on stone floor. Her gaze immediately wandered towards grand bed standing in the middle of vast chamber. Thanks to light of dying fire in the fireplace, she could just make the outlines of small silhouette laying under the covers, with bright red hair spreaded across the pillow. She smiled gently before walking towards the table, where she began to remove her, sadly useless now, armor. Her fingers worked slowly on all the buckles, partially due to her injuries, which hurt upon every movement but also because she didn't want to wake the woman sleeping peacefully in the bed. A curse escaped her mouth when one of the clasps seemed to be stuck and wouldn't budge; instead, she chose to cut through the leather strap, as her gear was now as good as rubbish anyway.

When Ciri finally restrained herself from all the armor pieces, she let out a sigh, looking down at the bandage covering her stomach. It was stained red, which didn't truly surprised her, given how she had to fight the sirens earlier this day. She winced at the thought of having to dress the wound properly again, while all she wanted to do was to throw herself on the bed and sleep till noon.

"You're late." A sleepy voice startled her and she quickly turned around, her heart beating fast.

The woman who was sleeping earlier was now fully awake, standing before her in a thin shift, with her hair messy and arms crossed. Even though her current state might have been dishevelled, Ciri though she looked just as regal as when she was wearing the crown. Somehow, it wasn't a comforting thought; quite the opposite, in fact.

"Sorry, I didn't want to wake you up," she said, not meeting her gaze yet. She was fearless, yes, but not here. Not around Cerys.

"You know that's not what I meant," the redhead replied coldly.

Ciri swallowed, looking up at her. What she saw in her amber eyes, illuminated by the fire, was anger, sure, but also something else. Concern, perhaps. Uncertainty.

"I know, I just... I'm sorry, Cerys." There was sincerity in her voice as she spoke. "But it's all a part of my job, you know that. I'm a witcher, I hunt monsters. Sometimes a contract goes awry and there's not much I can do about that."

She took a step towards Cerys but she frowned at her.

"It was three days, Cirilla. Sounds like more than a contact that has gone awry, considering you've been to a village only one day of road from here."

On any other day, she would perhaps argue with her about that, but now, Ciri was too tired and sore to defend herself.

"There were some bigger... complications," she admitted sheepishly.

"Complications? By the gods, just tell me what happened!" Cerys yelled, clearly fed up with her. "You take a job that's supposed to be 'the simplest contract you've ever heard off' and you show up three days late, in the middle of the —"

Suddenly, she trailed off, as her gaze wandered towards Ciri's bandaged waist.

"You're hurt," she simply stated, coming over to her in few quick strides. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"Well, you haven't given me much of chance to do so," she joked but Cerys didn't even smile, concern visible on her face, with no traces of anger left. "Don't worry, there was a healer in the village, took good care of me. I only need a change of bandages, that's all," she added, taking redhead's hand in hers and squeezing reassuringly. "I'm fine, mostly. Just tired."

Cerys nodded, smiling.

"Sit down, then," she ordered. "I'll help you with that."

Ciri obeyed, wondering how did she get so lucky to have the Queen of Skellige dress her wounds.

* * *

 

Later that night, when her wound has been properly taken care of and covered with fresh bandage, they laid in bed together. Ciri has lazily draped her arm over Cerys' smaller frame, her face almost buried in the fiery mane. She was still in pain but definitely more comfortable than before, her lids heavy with exhaustion.

"I'm sorry for earlier," Cerys whispered, making her sigh. She snuggled a little closer, wary of her wound.

"'Tis alright," she murmured in reply, sleepily.

"Still, I feel a little silly. It's just... you matter to me, Ciri. A lot. And when you hadn't returned... I was worried."  
Satisfied smile found its way on Ciri's face, warmth spreading inside her. It wasn't often that Cerys admitted her feelings but, from what she gathered, Islanders prefered to show them by actions than words. She brushed away red hair and placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"I know," she replied simply, closing her eyes.

After a while of silence, when Ciri nearly found her way to dream's land, Cerys spoke again.

"You don't always have to be a witcher."

"Mmm?"

"You could always be the queen's consort."

By then, Ciri was already asleep.


End file.
